


Second Chance at a First Impression

by MoMoMomma



Series: How Howard and Steve Became Howard and Steve [2]
Category: Captain America
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Howard Stark Is a Dick, M/M, Rough Sex, Steve Roger is a Fierce Bitch, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Howard is an arrogant ass, Steve is a fierce bitch, and somehow a relationship is started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chance at a First Impression

**Author's Note:**

> So this is about the most Steve and Howard have fought in the entirety of their relationship. And it's certainly the fiercest. There's something about Howard that brings out Steve's emotions in a huge way, anger and rage included in the lust and need. I hope you guys enjoy!

Howard Stark came awake the morning after the art show with two facts being glaringly obvious to him. His temples had the suspicious tightness that meant he’d had a little too much champagne last night, and he was achingly _hard._

“What the hell.” He grunted, shoving the blankets down his body and glaring down at the stiff bulge like it’d done something wrong.

Normally, men waking up with an erection was not an uncommon occurrence, but Howard wasn’t normal. After being repeatedly shot down and flinched away from every time Maria realized he was hard, Howard’s body had pretty much developed an aversion to getting an erection without a willing partner right there.

This hadn’t happened in over ten years.

Luckily, it was Saturday and he didn’t have to be in to the office until a bit later for his first meeting of the day. Howard stretched against his sheets, luxuriating in the feel of silk against his skin, before running a hand down his body and cupping himself through the thin fabric. He resisted the urge to groan at the hot wave of pleasure that rolled through him, memories of past lovers running through his mind at a fast clip.

His thoughts skipped around as he shoved the boxers down his thighs, grasping himself firmly. They finally settled on one and Howard moaned at the memory.

Steve, Steve Rogers, cocky little artist from the art gallery. The only person since he’d gotten divorced to make his heart race.

Howard bucked up into his hand at the memory of those nimble fingers wrapped around him, of Steve’s voice curling into his ear. The indignation he’d felt as the boy had strutted away had only been shadowed by the pleasure of getting to watch that tight ass flex as he walked. Howard stroked faster at the thought of spreading him wide, sinking deep inside.

Would Steve be loud in the bedroom? Would he let go and make all those delicious noises he’d stifled against Howard’s shoulder in the coat room? Howard imagined it in glorious detail; bending Steve over the edge of the bed, or the edge of his desk, and fingering him until he was moaning Howard’s name and begging to be fucked. Sliding inside with harsh thrusts, making the boy cry out and whine. He bet Steve wouldn’t be a passive partner, demanding more, harder, and shoving back against him to meet every snap of his hips.

_Bet I would cum all over myself before you even got all of your big cock into me._

The memory of Steve’s words, and the mental image of the boy coming untouched, simply from the feel of Howard fucking into him, sent him tipping over the edge. He lay there panting once the shivers had stopped, grimacing at the feel of the cum cooling on his skin. Howard shoved himself up and shook off the last vestiges of shakiness from the orgasm, striding towards the bathroom. Steve Rogers was a dangerous little boy, and Howard was just stupid enough to go searching for danger. He had to see the boy again, if only to find out if he’d turned him down because Howard had been drunk, or if it was for some other reason.

*************

Later that day, after Howard had finished with all of his meetings and harassed his R&D department over the project they were supposed to have completed a week ago, he sat in his office, looking over the business card he’d been handed along with the painting. Steve’s name and contact information on a cheap white card, printed instead of engraved like the ones he was used to.

Howard picked up his phone from the desk, carefully punching in the numbers and waiting for it to connect. There was a click and then a cheery voice came through the line.

“Steve Rogers, how can I help you?”

“Hello, Steve.”

The pause between them went on for so long Howard actually considered pulling the phone away to check if he’d been hung up on. Before he could do so, however, Steve spoke once again.

“Mister Stark, it’s a pleasure to hear from you. How can I help you?”

Steve’s tone suggested the amount of pleasure he was receiving from the phone call was akin to that of someone getting a root canal without Novocain. Howard grinned despite himself, amused by the fact that socialite’s his own age fell all over themselves to get his attention, yet the artist who couldn’t be more than twenty-six seemed like his very presence irritated him. It was a curious situation, and Howard Stark was nothing if not a curious man.

“I realize my behavior last night may have caused some offense. Let me make it up to you.”

“That’s really not necessary, Mister Stark.”

“Ah, but it is to me. I know this fantastic little Italian place, you’ve heard of Marea, yes?”

“The most expensive Italian restaurant in town? Everyone’s heard of Marea, Mister Stark.”

“Fantastic, then I won’t have to give you directions. I’ll meet you there at eight o’ clock sharp. Until then, Steve.” Howard hung up before the man’s wild sputters could turn into an actual sentence, grinning despite himself.

Steve would be there, if only to tell Howard to go fuck himself. Somehow, the idea of seeing the young man again outweighed any unpleasantness. Howard was well aware he needed to be careful, a boy like Steve Rogers could easily become a dangerous addiction, and Howard had the definition of an addictive personality.

Luckily, he mused as he gathered his things and strode from the office, once he got Steve in and out of his bed, whatever appeal the young man had would disappear.

It always did.

*************

When Howard exited his car later that evening, he barely resisted the urge to grin widely at the sight of Steve waiting outside the restaurant, shifting uncomfortably under the glances from other patrons. He strode over and gripped Steve’s elbow, smiling at the way the boy started, twisting his head around from where he’d been staring in the opposite direction.

“Thank you for being on time. Shall we?” He gestured with a hand to punctuate his words, leading the stiff boy with a firm hand.

They were quickly led to a secluded back table and left alone after the waiter lit the candle in the middle of their table, the glow throwing Steve’s sharp features into delicious shadows. Howard perused the wine list, ignoring Steve’s glare entirely.

“Do you have a preference on white or red?”

“I drink red. On dates. With people I like.”

Howard grinned at the sharp words and tone, glancing over and feeling a rush of excitement at the combative glitter in Steve’s gorgeous blue eyes.

“Why, Steve, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to imply this isn’t a date.”

“It isn’t!” Steve snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brows. “A date is something you _voluntarily_ agree to go on. Something you enjoy with someone you have an interest in.”

“You seemed to have enough of an interest in me last night.” Howard smirked, leaning forward to place the wine list back on the table. He bit back a soft noise at the flush that worked its way over Steve’s cheeks. This boy really was too adorable.

“That was a momentary lapse in judgment.” He hissed, leaning forwards so they could speak at a lower level.

“Mmmm, any chance I could convince your judgment to lapse once again? It was quite enjoyable.”

“No! Damnit, Mister Stark, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I enjoy neither being teased nor led along.”

Howard blinked, taken aback at the words, as well as the true anger in the tone. Teasing the boy was one thing, but Howard hadn’t meant to make him think he wasn’t being serious. He reached across and laid a hand on top of Steve’s, noting how the boy froze at the touch.

“Steve, look at me. I’m many things, but a liar is not one of them. I want you, I’ve wanted you since you told me to go screw myself and sashayed off.”

“I did not ‘sashay’, Stark.” Steve muttered, but he left his hand where it was, resting under Howard’s.

“Then your natural walk is hot as hell. Believe me when I say I’d love nothing more than to bend you over this table right here and now.”

Steve rolled his shoulders, locking their eyes.

“And then what? Say I go home with you, say we screw each other senseless and then I leave. What happens next? I go on with my life saying I got to bone Howard Stark?”

Howard shrugged, not really thinking about it before he opened his mouth.

“Pretty much. Darling, I won’t hang on you, I’m not some clingy high-schooler. One night of amazing pleasure, and then we can go about our lives.”

Steve’s expression turned thunderous before he yanked his hand away with a jerk, standing and stomping out, bringing the other patrons’ heads around. Howard could have cared less about what everyone thought as he scrambled after the boy, head spinning and heart racing yet again.

He wasn’t sure what in the hell he’d done wrong this time either, but he was beginning to become attached to the fights he had with Steve. It was a heady rush, better than some of the sex he’d had in recent months, like inventing something new or solving an equation he’d been chewing on. Howard caught up to the boy as he was starting down the sidewalk, snagging his arm and pulling him to a stop. Steve snarled and yanked backwards, but Howard held fast, signaling for the driver to open the door of the limo. He pulled Steve towards it, leaning in to growl when Steve planted a hand on the roof, keeping himself from being pushed inside.

“Get in the goddamn car, Steve.”

“Go fuck yourself, _Mister Stark._ ” He growled right back, baring his teeth like a dog who’d gotten backed into a corner.

“Either you get into this car and we talk about why you’re losing your goddamn mind, or we have it out here on the sidewalk. My reputation can survive a screaming match in public, can yours?”

Steve’s face flushed red with rage, but he climbed into the car with sharp movements, Howard ordering the driver to just drive around for a while before climbing in after him. He almost chuckled when he saw that Steve had situated himself across the way, shoved into the opposite corner. If Howard was any closer, he imagined he’d be able to hear the man growling and see the hackles raised on his neck. He settled back against his own seat, reaching over to take a decanter of brandy out of the sidebar as the vehicle started moving.

“Brandy?” He offered, barely keeping his laughter in as he _saw_ the muscle tick start in Steve’s jaw. When the man offered no response, Howard shrugged and poured himself a couple of fingers into a tumbler, replacing the decanter before taking a sip. He gave an exaggerated sigh as the liquid burned down his throat, fighting back a smile at Steve’s growl.

Good God, he hadn’t had this much fun teasing someone in….he’d never had this much fun, actually. There was something unique about watching the quiet looking boy-scout lose it and snarl at him like an angry animal. Something incredibly addictive, and highly amusing.

“What in the hell do you _want_ with me, Stark?” Steve finally snapped, crossing his arms and legs, the picture of a defensive posture.

“I _want_ to fuck you. Period. That’s my end goal here, Steve. I want to bend you over and see if you actually will cum on my cock. Buuuut in lieu of that at the moment, since I don’t actually enjoy erotic asphyxiation and I feel like if I get within arm’s length you’re going to wrap your hands around my throat, I want to know why you stomped out on me less than ten minutes into our dinner.”

Steve rolled his eyes, planting his feet wide, and bracing his forearms on those powerful thighs. Howard missed the first part of his sentence, lost in a daydream about sliding to his knees between those feet and wrapping his mouth around Steve’s thick cock.

“—not ever going to fuck such an arrogant asshole. Especially one that wants just that. I’ve had enough one night stands in the past two years, I’m ready for an actual relationship. Sorry, Stark, you came too late.”

“So it’s not my age?”

“I could care less about your age. I judge people based on their attitudes. And yours sucks.”

“Not the only thing I could suck.” Howard murmured, grinning at the way Steve’s eyes actually flashed before he gripped onto his knees.

“Not a chance in hell, Stark. I’d cut it off first.”

This time Howard really did laugh at the pure _venom_ he could hear dripping from Steve’s lips, shaking his head and looking across at the boy. Maybe it was the brandy that caused his next words, maybe it was the heat of the moment, or maybe it was because in the low lights of the limo, Steve looked like a renegade angel, all righteous fury and heavenly beauty.

“What if I could promise you more than one night?”

Steve laughed derisively, gesturing to Howard with a sweep of his hand.

“Howard Stark, man-slut extraordinaire? You’re not **_capable_** of promising any more than one night. And if you are, it’s a bold-faced lie.”

Alright…so the kid had claws. Fine.

Howard leaned forward, gripping his tumbler tightly and nailing Steve with a hard look.

“You just admitted you’ve been slutting around yourself, not looking for a relationship. And you wanna judge _me_ because you’ve gotten bored with it and I’m still having fun?”

“No. I’m judging you because I’ve been doing it for _years_ now, Stark. I’ve spent the past two years having fun, now I’m ready to settle. You’ve been humping everything that doesn’t shake you off for the past ten and you’re **still** not ready to stop.”

“And so what?! I’ve earned the right to live my life how I please!”

“Oh, of course you have! You being BORN allowed you the right to have everything you want! I’m sorry, how **dare** I imply that the Magnificent Howard Stark be held to the same standards the rest of us lowly human beings are!”

It occurred to Howard, right before he dropped his tumbler and reached across the way for Steve, that he hadn’t been this worked up since the Stark Expo at the beginning of his reign with the company. It was odd that one man could incite the emotion and rush of adrenaline that being in front of _thousands_ had.

Steve met him halfway, the younger man’s larger frame shoving Howard backwards into his seat. Their mouths met in a kiss that was all teeth and heat, Steve biting down on Howard’s lower lip so hard it split under the pressure. Howard moaned at the copper tang that flavored the kiss, not stopping in the slightest as he yanked Steve’s clothes out of the way, getting one hand inside the boy’s pants before Steve jerked back and dropped to his knees, hard hands shoving Howard’s legs wide. He pulled and yanked at Howard’s pants until he’d stripped them and his underwear down to his knees. Howard heard something rip but couldn’t bring himself to care when Steve’s hot mouth wrapped around him.

“Fuck!” He swore, burying his hands in Steve’s blonde locks, gripping hard when he felt Steve suck half of him down in one go, raking nails down the insides of his thighs.

Howard freed one hand and fumbled under the side bar, yanking out a bottle of lube. He didn’t have time to reach back in for a condom before Steve was pulling the bottle away, kicking off his pants and slicking his hand up before reaching behind himself.

“Take your damn clothes off, Stark.” He snarled, and Howard didn’t even think about arguing, kicking off his shoes and tearing at his clothes.

He’d only managed to get his pants, underwear, and suit jacket off before he had a lapful of artist once more. Steve fisted one hand in Howard’s partially unbuttoned shirt, the other hand slipping down to grip onto him before he sank down in one harsh movement. Their cries echoed around the interior of the limo, but Steve barely gave Howard time to suck in a breath before he was moving up and down, using his grip on Howard’s shirt to brace himself. Howard sprawled backwards, the sheer pleasure of feeling Steve tight and hot around him over-riding any panic he had about having unprotected sex. He was clean, and Steve was such a righteous bastard, he’d never have fucked anyone if he wasn’t.

“Fucking hell, Stark. You’re an arrogant dick but your _cock.._.” Steve trailed off, moaning as he worked himself harder and faster on Howard.

The billionaire reached up and grabbed onto his hips, slamming him down while he thrust up, making Steve arch so hard he was staring at the ceiling.

“Not as good as your ass. Fuck, Steve, you’re so goddamn tight. Love fucking you open, making that tight hole loose.”

Steve sobbed at his words and it was the only warning Howard got before Steve was painting the front of his dress shirt with cum. The feeling of him contracting around him sent Howard over the edge, nails biting into Steve’s hips hard enough Howard knew the boy would be waking up to bruises. They sagged together in the aftermath, Howard pulling Steve close when the boy went to pull away.

“No, no, come on. Just let me hold you for a moment.” Howard whispered, reaching a gentle hand down to check for bleeding. God, they’d gone at it so rough….

Howard couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex with so much emotion involved. Usually it was slight attraction that led to him tumbling into bed with someone. With Steve….there had been real emotion. Anger, indignation, and lust tangled together in a web that made him half out of his mind. Steve shifted on his lap, breaking him out of his thoughts, and Howard kept a grip on his hips as Steve pulled up off of him, hissing at the drag.

Once he’d slipped free, Howard brought the boy back down with gentle movements, leaning up to press their foreheads together. Steve huffed into the air between them, lips curling up in the barest hint of a smile.

“You’re still an arrogant bastard.”

“And you’re a cocky little punk. But you’re _interesting_. And I haven’t met anyone interesting in quite a while.”

“Alright, and?”

“And maybe you’re right, maybe I am not capable of doing more than one night. But I’d like to try. You are far too superb for me to give up, Steve Rogers.”

Steve huffed again, threading gentle fingers through his hair and laying a soft kiss on his lips. Howard smiled and rubbed gentle circles on the boy’s hipbones while he waited for a response.

“Alright. I’ll give you a shot. But remember this, Howard Stark,” Steve drew back and locked eyes with him, the blue darkening. “If you get bored, and you decide to let me know by cheating on me, I will take that pretty bottle of brandy and break it over your head.”

“Mmmm, possessive,” Howard teased, nuzzling into his throat and nipping over the boy’s jugular. “I like it. Fair enough, darling boy, if I get even get the slightest bit bored, I’ll let you know immediately.”

The problem was, Howard realized worriedly as Steve sighed and cuddled into him, he wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ get bored of this fascinating boy.


End file.
